The first time I visited Cecilia Chiang at her home in a Pacific Heights high-rise, afternoon tea turned into dinner, then into TV-watching time. By the time I left, it was after 10 p.m., and as she walked me to the door, still chatting in Mandarin, she suddenly cleared her throat.

"We've been talking a lot," she said with a smile. "My voice is a little hoarse."

I laughed. So was mine.

One minute we were reminiscing over Beijing dumplings. Next thing I knew, we were tossing Napa cabbage into a soup and fist-bumping over shared Chinese zodiac signs; we're both Monkeys, and we both come from Chinese immigrant backgrounds.

That's the thing about Cecilia Chiang. You can't help but talk yourself silly with her.

At 93, she is as gracious and gregarious as ever, and if there is such a thing as a big year for someone with a century's worth of adventures, then this Year of the Snake, which begins Sunday, would be one of them.

Chiang introduced regional Chinese cuisine to a Bay Area audience familiar with only the chop suey and chow mein derived from early immigrants from southern China.

Peking duck and pot stickers? They might be old news now, but they were a novelty when Chiang began serving them at her transcendent Ghirardelli Square restaurant, the Mandarin, in the 1960s.

"There is so much history with Chinese food," she says over tea. "There is a reason for everything."

Chinese cuisine is usually broken down into four categories - Beijing, Cantonese, Shanghai and Sichuan - and Chiang knows them well.

The seventh daughter of an upper-class family, she grew up in Beijing, where harsh winters prevent rice from growing. Wheat is the staple crop, so local specialties include noodles and dumplings. Chiang's palate, though, ran broad, as her mother and the family cooks also made specialities from Shanghai, her mother's home.

1,000-mile trek

In 1942, with conditions in Beijing deteriorating because of the Japanese occupation, Chiang, then 22, and a sister set off for Chongqing in Sichuan province, a 1,000-mile journey that took months of walking through war-torn villages.

There, she came face-to-face with the region's famous chile oils and Sichuan peppercorns, as well as street snacks like dan dan mian, so named after the long bamboo poles (dan) that peddlers used to carry the noodles and cooking vessels.

When Chiang married her husband, Chiang Liang, they moved to Shanghai. The surrounding region is home to Shaoxing wine - my father's old village is the main producer - and "drunken" dishes like chicken steamed in rice wine abound.

As Chiang and I traded stories, our shared immigrant history emerged. She, like my parents, grew up around two wars, first with the Japanese in World War II, then a civil war during the Communist revolution.

During the latter, Chiang fled China, as did my parents, because all had ties to the Kuomintang Nationalist Party. Chiang landed in Tokyo; my parents, in Taiwan.

A few days after our first meeting, I picked Chiang up to go grocery shopping at the Asian markets on Clement Street, a day before she was to teach me how to cook a Lunar New Year meal.

We wended our way through narrow aisles, looking for the freshest ginger, bamboo shoots and mushrooms we could find. Again, I was reminded of my parents, how my mother would make the butcher hold up meat for inspection, not settling until she found a piece she liked.

Chiang demanded the best from herself and her staff at the Mandarin. And though it's been years since she roamed the dining room - she sold the restaurant in 1991, and the Mandarin closed in 2006 - she remains a champion of Chinese cuisine and culture.

Her enthusiasm for the food also rubbed off on her son, Philip Chiang. He co-founded P.F. Chang's, and remains actively involved in the expansion of that business.

Making it even better

Last year, she organized a dinner party for local chefs and friends featuring Yu Bo, a top chef from China, whose intricate presentations and techniques - steamed buns snipped to resemble a porcupine; edible paint brushes - have drawn comparisons to the groundbreaking Spanish chef Ferran Adria.

Yu and his wife stayed with Chiang during their visit, and the night before the dinner, an unusually weary Chiang got up in the middle of the night and slipped. The fall took away much of the mobility in her right arm, but none of her tenacity and wit. She still takes daily walks in the park across the street and goes for regular physical therapy to strengthen her arm.

If pork isn't sliced thin enough to her liking, she'll pick up a knife and show you how to cut it just so. In fact, she pulls a glittering Shun knife to demonstrate.

"Every year I go to Williams-Sonoma and buy a new gadget - I tell Chuck, 'You need money,' " she jokes.

The Williams-Sonoma founder needs money about as much as Chiang needs cooking lessons, which is what two of my colleagues and I got when we arrived to cook our Lunar New Year meal.

Lesson No. 1? The most time-consuming part of Chinese cooking is the prep: chopping vegetables and meat into uniform pieces.

Chiang shows us how to peel fresh bamboo shoots to reveal their tender interior, a process akin to preparing artichokes. She has us taste Chinkiang vinegar, a black rice vinegar reminiscent of balsamic. Then there's the homemade chile oil, to which store-bought versions simply don't measure up.

She instructed us how to slice the pork and stir-fry it along with the bamboo shoots, gently poach fish and wood ear mushrooms in oil and Shaoxing wine, and prepare pork belly.

Meanwhile, conversation flows in English, Mandarin and Japanese, as one of us had also spent time in Japan. When our five dishes are done, we finally sit down at the kitchen table, ready to feast, until Chiang thinks of the one thing that could make the meal even better.

Anyone want a beer?

And so it goes, Cecilia Chiang and three of us whose combined ages barely add up to hers, raising glasses of Tsingtao and toasting the upcoming lunar year.

Chinese cuisine primer

Chinese cuisine is often grouped into four main categories: Beijing, Shanghai, Sichuan and Cantonese. Here's a quick look at each.

Beijing: Northern China cuisine, also known as Mandarin cuisine, is dependent on wheat; no rice is grown in the region. Noodles, dumplings and other wheat-based foods serve as staple carbohydrates. Sesame oil is often used, but in general the flavorings are more subtle than in other regions.

Popular dishes: Peking duck, pot stickers, mu shu pork.

Shanghai: Foods here are often characterized by the use of alcohol in cooking, as Shaoxing wine is produced in the region. Sugar, also grown in the area, lends sweetness to many dishes, while garlic and ginger are mostly absent.

Cantonese: This cuisine from Southern China is the most commonly found in San Francisco. Oyster sauce is used to flavor many dishes, while barbecued and roasted meats are immensely popular. Slow-cooked, clear broth soups are a specialty at banquets.

Mushrooms in Oyster Sauce

Oyster sauce is a condiment widely used in Cantonese cuisine. Cecilia Chiang likes to use two varieties of mushrooms - fresh shiitakes and button mushrooms - for a contrast of color.

12 ounces white button mushrooms

12 ounces fresh shiitake mushrooms

3 tablespoons vegetable oil

3 cloves garlic, smashed

2 tablespoons oyster sauce

1 1/2 teaspoons soy sauce

-- Splash Shaoxing wine

-- Chopped parsley for garnish, optional

Instructions: Keeping the two kinds of mushrooms separate, wipe them clean and remove the stems, using scissors to snip off the ends of the shiitakes. Cut the mushrooms into roughly even pieces, halving them or quartering them if large.

Heat the oil in a wok over high heat. Add the garlic, and stir until it infuses the oil but doesn't burn, about 2-3 minutes.

Rice Cake Soup

Serves 8 to 10 as a starter

This traditional New Year's soup from Cecilia Chiang comes together in a flash once you've made the broth - and that can be prepared several days ahead. Rice cakes, or nian gao, symbolize prosperity year after year, and are available in the refrigerated section at Asian grocery stores.

For the broth: Rinse the chicken under cold running water. Put it in a small stockpot with enough cold water to cover by two inches. Bring to a boil over high heat, let it cook 3-4 minutes, then quickly transfer to a colander to drain.

Rinse the chicken again with cold water to remove scum and clean out the stockpot. Return the chicken to the pot, add the smashed ginger and enough cold water to cover by several inches. Bring the liquid to a boil again over high heat. Decrease the heat to medium-low and simmer for 4 to 5 hours, skimming off fat and foam frequently during the first 30 minutes, and then occasionally the rest of the time. Strain the broth, let cool completely, then refrigerate if doing ahead - the broth will keep for 4 days. You should have about 8 cups of broth.

To finish: Bring the broth to a boil over high heat. Add the rice cakes, and simmer for about 2 minutes. Add the cabbage and cook another 2 minutes. Use a slotted spoon to submerge the ham in the broth to cook 1-2 minutes; remove and set aside.

Once the rice cakes are cooked through, about 4-5 minutes total, the soup is ready. Serve hot, topping each bowl with a few pieces of ham as garnish.

Note: Yellow-skinned chickens are available at most Asian markets, where you will also find the rice cakes. The chickens will likely come with both head and feet attached. If you can't find one, stewing hens are similar. The older birds aren't tender enough for roasting, but are great for stocks and stews.

Fish Fillet in Wine Sauce

Serves 4 to 6 as part of a multicourse meal

This dish is a Beijing specialty despite its use of Shaoxing wine, which is more often found in Shanghai-style dishes. Timing is crucial, so make sure the ingredients are prepared and the seasonings are on hand before starting to cook.

1 1/2 pounds basa or rock cod fillet

2 egg whites

1 1/2 teaspoons cornstarch

3 ounces wood-ear mushrooms 3/4 cup vegetable oil

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1/2 cup Shaoxing wine

2 teaspoons sugar

-- Pinch of ground white pepper

-- Cooked white rice, for serving

Instructions: Cut the fish on the bias into bite-size uniform pieces, about 1/2 inch thick. Place in a mixing bowl and add the egg whites, using your hands to gently coat the fish. Sprinkle the cornstarch over the mixture and combine. Refrigerate for 1 hour.

Rinse the wood-ear mushrooms, tear into bite-size pieces and set aside.

When you're ready to cook, heat the oil in a wok over high heat. As soon as the oil is hot - you can test the temperature by placing a wooden chopstick in the oil and when it bubbles vigorously it's ready - remove the wok from the heat. Add the salt and swirl the oil around the pan. With the wok still off the heat, add the fish and let cook, stirring gently, for about 1 minute, taking care not to let the egg coating burn.

Put the wok back over medium heat, gently stir the fish and add the Shaoxing wine, sugar and wood-ear mushrooms. Cook slowly, adjusting the heat as necessary, until the fish is opaque and fully cooked through, about 4-5 minutes.

Transfer to a serving plate and finish with a pinch of white pepper. Serve immediately.

Pork Belly With Garlic Chili Oil Dipping Sauce

Serves 4 to 6 as part of a multicourse meal

Sichuan cuisine is characterized for its liberal use of spices. In this dish from Cecilia Chiang, pork belly is poached, thinly sliced, and served with a fiery red dipping sauce. Note that this needs to be done at least 1 hour ahead. You can adjust the heat by adding more or less chili oil, but the spice shouldn't overpower the other ingredients.

14 ounces pork belly

1 (2-inch) piece unpeeled fresh ginger, lightly smashed

3 tablespoons Chinkiang or balsamic vinegar

2 tablespoons seasoned rice vinegar

2 teaspoons Asian chili oil, or to taste

2 teaspoons soy sauce

10 cloves garlic, finely minced (about 2 tablespoons)

Instructions: Trim the pork belly so that it's as uniformly rectangle as possible and about 1-inch thick all around.

Place the pork and smashed ginger in a medium to large pan and add enough water to cover by several inches. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer and poach the pork until tender and cooked through, about 25-30 minutes.

Remove the pork from the poaching liquid and pat dry. Let cool slightly, then wrap in plastic wrap and chill in the refrigerator until the meat is firm and easy to slice, about 1 hour or up to overnight.

To slice, remove the plastic wrap and place the pork, skin side down, on a cutting board. Slice against the grain into even bite-size pieces about 1/8- inch thick.

Make the dipping sauce by combining the vinegars, chili oil, soy sauce and garlic. Taste and adjust seasoning, if desired. Serve the sauce alongside the sliced pork belly.

Fresh Bamboo Shoots With Sliced Pork

Serves 4 to 6 as part of a multicourse meal

This simple dish from Cecilia Chiang highlights the combination of Shaoxing wine and sugar often used in Shanghai-style dishes. Fresh winter shoots are now available at Asian markets, while in spring, the baby shoots are considered a delicacy.

4 ounces pork loin, excess fat removed

1 tablespoon cornstarch

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

2 large whole bamboo shoots (about 2 pounds)

3 tablespoons vegetable oil + more if necessary

1 1/2 tablespoons soy sauce

1 tablespoon Shaoxing wine

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

-- Pinch of sugar

Instructions: Place the pork loin in a freezer for about 30 minutes to make slicing easier. Once slightly frozen, thinly slice into matchstick-size pieces, about 1 1/2- by 1/8 -inch. In a small bowl, toss the meat with the cornstarch and baking soda; let marinate for about 1 hour.

Meanwhile, prepare the bamboo shoots by slitting vertically along the sides and peeling away the outer skin in layers until the only the white flesh is left, with no brown or fibrous layers. Using a knife, trim the bottom and sides of each shoot. Cut in half vertically, then cut into matchstick-size pieces to match the pork.

Heat 3 tablespoons of oil in a wok over high heat. Add the pork, 1 tablespoon of the soy sauce and the Shaoxing wine; stir-fry 1-2 minutes. Remove the meat and place in a bowl, leaving the oil in the pan and adding more if necessary to cook the bamboo shoots.

Add the salt to the oil, swirl around, and add the bamboo shoots. Add the remaining 1/2 tablespoon soy sauce and a pinch of sugar, and stir-fry 3-4 minutes, or until the bamboo shoots are tender yet still crisp. Stir in the reserved meat, and stir-fry another 1-2 minutes to combine.